


"I don't fear my death"

by viceversa



Series: One Word [19]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e17 Pusher, F/M, Pain, this isn't a happy one folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: Scully can't stop what's about to happen.





	"I don't fear my death"

_"_ Whatever you’ve got planned, it’s not going to work out.”

Scully’s not a hostage negotiator. She’s already lied to him. There are no cops in the hallway. She’s trembling, her stomach is in knots. This man has killed innocent people before, and she can’t explain how. Can’t stop it.

“You don’t know what I’ve got planned.”

Scully eyes the gun on the table between them as she she slowly sits down. Mulder is staring at Pusher, trembling, sweating buckets, not giving anything away. Like he had nothing to give at all.

Pusher starts rambling about Japanese fighting strategy, but all Scully hears is a ringing in her ears. Premonition. This is out of her control, out of her reach. She wishes she had brought in her gun after all, but realizes she might be dead already if she had.

Pusher spins the barrel. There’s only one bullet.

“...In other words, to disregard his own death.”

She’s frozen, back straight, all of her training gone. 

“Because of that, the Budo warrior always wins. I am that warrior. I don’t fear my death.”

He snaps the barrel and slides the gun to Mulder. Mulder, who hasn’t moved, but for his eyes and his trembling. 

“So I’m going to give you one pull of the trigger against me.”

Scully can’t remember a time she’d prayed so hard for someone to get shot. Please, God. Help us. Stop this.

“One in six chance.”

She hates his voice. It’s monotonous and cruel. It’s convinced people to die, to kill, to hurt. It will haunt her forever.

Mulder places his hand on the gun. His fingers tremble. He’s trying to fight. Pusher stops him with a fast hand and Scully jumps,  _will he?_  No. He’s reinforcing whatever mind control, brainwashing, that Mulder’s under. 

“One. One pull.”

Scully scrambles. What can she say? How can she stop this? She has to appeal to Mulder’s sense of the greater good, of the absolute value at stake. They could all die. She has to stop this. Has to stop it before-

“Wait.” She feels her eyes tear up, ignores it. “Mulder, look. There’s pure oxygen in this room. There’s no telling what could happen if you pull that trigger-”

 _Click_! No hesitation.

Her heart stops skips a beat, her throat stops a scream.  _God, Mulder, snap out of it! Look at me!_ He’s gone pale. Still silent. Oh, god.

“Piece of cake.”

She’s shaking, tense, fight or flight and neither will help. This is a horror show, a trap, torture.

“Your turn.” 

 _No!_ Her life flashes before her eyes. Mulder. He’s going to make Mulder shoot himself. 

“Mulder, no.” She can’t help the pleading tone of her voice. Could she stop him? Jump the few feet, put her kevlar covered chest in front of the bullet? Save him? Tell him everything she’s wanted to tell him for weeks, months, years? 

“Mulder yes. Go.”

“Mulder listen to me. Give me the gun. We can stop this thing right now you and I can just walk outside of this room-”

He moves his arm, not in his control. His face, pulled into a grimace, betraying his fear, his pain, his regrets. Time slows for just an instant.

“No!”

The gun goes off, louder and quicker than she’d ever heard a gun, and there’s blood, so much blood. Pink mist. Bits of Mulder’s brain hit her, on her face, her hair, her skin. He slumps grotesquely to the side, following the path of the bullet through his mind until he hits the floor. 

Dead weight makes a mighty thud against hospital linoleum. The empty gun clinks to the chair. 

Scully’s in shock. She’s standing. She doesn’t remember standing. She can’t look, she can’t look at Mulder. She turns to Pusher. He did this. He killed him. He looks as shocked as she is. Fuck him. 

“You  _bastard!”_

She’s on him, he’s on the floor, she’s punching him, she wants to kill him. Left, right, impact to the orbital bone for pain, she’s in so much pain, she can feel the void Mulder left behind on the floor beside her. She can’t look. She punches. She’s relentless. Knuckles into bone cartilage, straight through to the brain. He’s not moving. Pusher’s dead. 

Mulder’s dead. 

She wakes, in the middle of the night, screaming.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @viceversawrites on tumlbr


End file.
